


Just Enough

by victoriousdragon



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Komahina - Freeform, M/M, POV Third Person Omniscient, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousdragon/pseuds/victoriousdragon
Summary: This is a fic written for whimsicalbumblebee on tumblr as part of the secret komahina gift exchange. The prompts were: Anything fluffy, something domestic, anything with a happy ending.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic written for whimsicalbumblebee on tumblr as part of the secret komahina gift exchange. The prompts were: Anything fluffy, something domestic, anything with a happy ending.

There are limitations, Komaeda thinks, to many aspects of his life. He can't feel his left arm past his elbows. His stamina is weak. Hope is like a frayed string of yarn dangling off a rusted nail. He feels frustrated when he shouldn't, and the things others deem easy become so complicated. His lips stay upturned into a smile because he learned as a kid that it takes more muscles to frown than to smile. He knows the good outweighs the bad, yet he finds himself seeing bad even inside the good. That dreadful, despairing red sky from the past still appears every now and then, even when he knows it’s just the sunrise.

  
When Komaeda wakes, he is reminded of these limitations. When he opens his eyes in the middle of the night, he is more comforted by the familiarity of the darkness and the roars of the crashing waves on Jabberwock Island rather than the white light of waking in the morning. He wishes he could be blind sometimes, just so he wouldn't have to strain his eyes to those bright rays of tropical sunlight.

  
And yet.

  
That very same Sun, from which all is too bright, too full of life, too painful, too dazzling, too hot, represents all that is beautiful, splendid, wondrous, and devoid of any limitations.

  
That shining, blinding, sparkling ray of sun finds a home in Komaeda. Every waking morning, he sees his first friend, his best friend, his sunlight, Hinata, by his side.

  
Even Hinata's name is so reassuring, so full of hope. His name, meaning "begin to face each day" seems so fitting. When Hinata first introduces himself, dusting off the sand of the virtual ocean shore, he smooths his index finger along the lines of Komaeda's palm to spell his name with the proper kanji, and Komaeda finds him so interesting. He still remembers the tingle and warmth that lingered in his palm, all too real to him, even if it wasn’t.

  
Slowly, quietly, Komaeda pulls out his left arm from beneath the blankets he's wrapped himself in and stretches out the arm to the empty pillow by his head. The lodges of the real Jabberwock Island are so much more comfortable and much less dreadful. He listens to the familiar sounds of the shower running in the bathroom across the bedroom, chuckling at the annoyed grunts of Hinata obviously dropping the shampoo bottle on accident. With his right hand, Komaeda dips his index finger into the curve of his left palm. He can't feel it, as usual. His right finger feels the coldness and hardness of the steel robotic hand. Even so, numbly, he carefully writes the kanji for Hinata's name into his left palm, smiling into his pillow.

  
"Hi...nata...Hajime..." he whispers as he writes, sleep still clinging to his voice. The faucet squeaks off just then, signaling Hinata will be out of the bathroom soon.

  
"Damn it!" he hears Hinata yelp.

  
"Everything ok?" Komaeda asks, hoping his voice is loud enough to hear through the wall. He decides to prop himself onto his elbows, at the ready to get out of bed.

  
"Fine," Hinata replies curtly, annoyed. So Komaeda wriggles out from the sheets, presses his feet to the ground, and makes his way to the bathroom door.

  
"Hinata-kun?"

  
Komaeda can only see the back of Hinata's head, and the mirrors are still covered in condensation and steam. There's shaving cream still covering half of Hinata's face, which is enough evidence to assume the razor Hinata is holding got too close to his face. There's a small cut on his upper lip, close to the corner of his mouth, and there's another cut straight in the middle between the jawline and the neck, just above the Adam’s apple.

  
Komaeda laughs to himself as he tears up little squares of toilet paper to pat onto the small bleeding cuts. He quietly watches as his friend finishes the rest of his face, dipping the razor into the running faucet water every now and then.

  
"I'm so glad that you didn't seriously hurt yourself," Komaeda starts, wiping away the steam on the mirror with his right hand. "Even with the good luck of yours canceling my luck cycle, it still worries me."

  
"It's fine. It's my own dumb fault, Komaeda," Hinata smiles reassuringly in the mirror. "It's just, you know...like that."

  
Komaeda watches as Hinata pinches his fingers between the little tissues on his face and rips them off, revealing the bleeding has stopped. Hinata licks his lips to confirm his cuts are dry, something Komaeda is hyper-aware of.

  
"Am I going to be able...to kiss you?" Komaeda asks rather abruptly, almost unsure of what words just blurted out from his own mouth. "Will it hurt you...right there?"

  
Komaeda gingerly presses the index finger of his right hand on the small cut just above Hinata's upper lip. Hinata smiles gently, placing a hand over Komaeda’s right hand, leaning into him. Komaeda stares up at him curiously, eager for a response to his probably embarrassing question. Hinata stares back, his cheeks are suddenly flushed. He looks away for a second, hesitating.

  
“You can, umm, kiss me whenever you like,” Hinata replies, trying to keep a straight face. His expression looks apologetic. “I mean, if you want.”

  
Komaeda loves seeing through all of Hinata’s expressions. He finds him so interesting, even more so after he revealed himself as Kamukura when we awoke. Komaeda knows that the Ultimate Talent’s thoughts and mannerisms still stay within Hinata, like restraining emotions, so when Hinata does show those looks of doubt and uncertainty, he finds him all the more attractive and captivating.  
Hinata’s cheeks are still flushed, which makes Komaeda all the more eager to show he adores him, so he quickly pecks Hinata on the lips, smiling as he retreats back to see Hinata’s expression has changed to surprise.

  
“So did it hurt?” Komaeda asks Hinata, resting his hands playfully at Hinata’s waist. In response, Hinata places his hands on Komaeda’s shoulders reassuringly. There’s a spark in Hinata’s eyes, and Komaeda knows Hinata is probably about to say something snarky.

  
“Nah,” Hinata replies casually,” But your morning breath could certainly kill someone.”

  
And with that, the pair brushes their teeth, just as they do every morning, and head out for breakfast.

  
\---

  
There are other times, Komaeda thinks, that what he has is too much. Even if he lacks stamina, he can still run on his very own two legs, even with those slashes still there across his thighs. He can still write, clean dishes, fold laundry, grasp and lift things, all with his two hands, even with the constant reminder that one of those hands truly isn’t his own. Somehow he can still live such a normal and pleasant life too, even with his sickness.

  
Sometimes Komaeda questions himself. Sometimes Komaeda questions Hinata.

  
“You don’t have to stay with me, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda would say, almost plead, to his best friend. He still fears, too often, that he will never be able to love someone and have them stay.

  
At those times, Hinata flings a pair of his blue boxers at Komaeda’s face, straight from the fresh laundry hanging outside the lodge. Sometimes Hinata throws the clothes pins at him, too, if he’s outside with him.

  
“Damn it Komaeda,’ yells Hinata, firing balled-up socks like missles in Komaeda’s direction. “I’m not going anywhere, and you know it!”

  
“But why?” Komaeda’s voice muffles into the undergarments clinging to his face, the tropical wind picking up and making all the loose fabric blow towards his direction. All Komaeda can see is blue; it’s a bright cerulean blue with little white hibiscus flowers. An instant after that, he feels arms around his back, squeezing him tightly. He realizes Hinata is hugging him, digging his chin into Komaeda’s right shoulder.

  
“Because,” Hinata starts, voice mildly annoyed and frustrated,” I like you. It’s as simple as that.” Hinata squeezes Komaeda a little tighter and knees Komaeda’s left shin for good measure.

  
The gust of wind stops blowing for a moment, letting Komaeda’s vision return. Hinata’s cheeks are flushed again. Komaeda decides to return the embrace, comfortingly pressing a cheek into Hinata’s neck.

  
“I like you too,” Komaeda manages to respond, smiling gently.

  
“Do you know how embarrassing it is to do my laundry?” Hinata starts, pulling away. “I mean, who else but you wouldn’t laugh at my girly-looking underwear?” Hinata laughs, slipping an arm down to grasp Komaeda’s left hand.

  
Komaeda’s hand finds his and grasps back, gently lacing his fingers into Hinata’s.

  
\---

  
Komaeda can feel it. The warmth of Hinata’s hand. He knows it’s there, even through the cold metal of his left hand. It’s definitely there, in his hand, between his fingers, he’s sure of it.

  
Maybe what Komaeda has, he’s decided, is just enough. Limitations, sure. Despair remnants and red-tinted memories, yes. But Komaeda has Hinata, a reason to begin each day, facing forward towards that bright sun, and maybe that’s all he really needs, really wants.

  
Komaeda can smile now. He can feel. He can love. With Hinata, with the current self that Komaeda has come to validate and accept, Komaeda thinks he can do just about anything, just enough.

 


End file.
